“Fuck you.” Dylan glared back.
Shit.
Had Cruz sent Rogelio to keep an eye on him? To make sure the girls were picked up without incident? He’d made one fuck up with Hannah and now the boss was sending his watchdog after him.
God damn it.
His pits started to sweat in a whole new way.
“Make sure your man does his job and there won’t be any screw-ups this time.” Dylan shouldered past the larger man. His better instincts said to run, and run now, but he couldn’t run from a predator like Rogelio. It would only draw his attention, and Dylan was nothing if not a survivor.
Hannah swiveled her hips, eyes closed, letting the rhythm speak to her. Mason’s presence, stomping after her through the sand at least kept the random butt-humpers from encroaching on her space. She was ready to start this vacation for real, and if Mason was going to continue to be a black rain cloud, well, that was his problem, not hers. She wanted to dance. Enjoy the time they had together, however short it might be. Whatever his hang-up was when it came to a short fling, that was on him. He’d have to get over it soon, or else they’d be on a plane home before they even got started. If they’d go down that road at all. It might not be worth it to him, and while that stung, she also understood.
She turned and felt his body heat. Her body swayed toward him, a magnet drawn to its opposite. Slanting her gaze up at him, she draped an arm over his shoulder. He stared down at her, completely unmoved. Had she imagined earlier? Because right now he seemed a whole lot more interested in glaring at her.
For once she’d like to seriously know if she affected him like he did her. How when she was close to him, her body was too hot, she tingled and wanted something she’d never had before. With him. It was always him, damn it.
“Dance with me?” she asked.
His brows drew down and she could already hear the “no” on his lips.
Hannah pushed away from him, the rejection stinging. Again. Always again. Always her. He wanted her, but he wouldn’t act on it. Not even after the moment upstairs or in her bedroom. He’d gone cold on her all over again.
Mason caught her hand and reeled her back against his chest, his front to her back. He clenched her hip with one hand, each finger a branding iron. She felt the heat of him all the way to her core. A breath stuttered out of her lungs, only to get caught in her throat.
Hope was a fragile thing. All she’d hoped for were stolen moments with him. No commitment. Nothing that would put him at danger. Just a kiss. A night. Something she could hold onto when she was alone.
He brought their clasped hands up to rest against her stomach and pressed them closer together. The puff of warm breath against her neck, the slight scrape of his stubble over her sensitive skin had her shivering despite the tropical temperatures. He slowly rocked from side to side, catching the beat of the music.
They couldn’t be together. She got that. But wasn’t the point of a vacation, of going to Mexico, to get away from everything? There was no one here that knew them. No one to report back to her dad. They could have this. One long weekend. She wanted that fantasy to be real, if just for a few days. After that, she’d never ask for more.
She turned in his hold, needing to see him. They were so close she could feel the hard ridges of muscle down his chest, the flex of those muscles as their bodies swayed in time together, weaving a spell of sensual magic.
One of his hands drifted lower, resting on her ass, urging her closer until they were pressed together from knee to shoulder.
This was a fantasy. The one time they could live out whatever desire they had for each other. And right now, she wanted to feel like any other girl on the dance floor.
Hannah tipped her chin up and leaned in, but Mason turned his head. She drew back as far as his hold would allow.
He’d hold her. Even dance with her. But a kiss was out of the question?
“Let go of me,” she said.
“Hannah—”
“You don’t get to do this.” She pushed his hands away and slipped through the crowd, searching for a way out.
Mason would be there, behind her somewhere, never out of sight. She couldn’t get too far without him following. God, she wanted to strangle him. She’d suggested leaving—he said they should stay. They stayed—but he wouldn’t cross that boundary between them. He kissed her—and she couldn’t kiss him. The constant flip-flopping was making her crazy.
“Oopsie!”
Hannah walked straight into a gorgeous black woman carrying two slushy drinks in hollowed out coconuts. The icy mixture sloshed down the front of Hannah’s cover-up, chilling any lingering ardor.
“I am so sorry.” The woman held out the drinks.
“No, that was totally my fault.” Hannah shivered as a cool ocean breeze swept inland.
“Christine, what did you do?” A second woman joined the first, hands on her hips. “Did she do that? Chris, you’re such a klutz.”
“I’m so, so sorry.” Christine set the drinks down on a table and grabbed a napkin, which she offered to Hannah.
“It’s totally fine.” She chuckled. “It’s just a cover-up thing. I should have paid more attention to where I’m going. My fault, really.”
“But it’s sticky, and God, I’m so sorry. Let me buy you a drink? I’m Christine.” The woman held out her hand, a brilliant, warm smile on her face.
“Hannah.”
“And I’m Natalie.” The second woman offered her hand. “Love this wrap. Is it H&M?”
“Um, I have no clue. It’s my roommates.” Hannah grinned sheepishly, all her awkwardness sweeping in to rob her of all her smart words. These women were everything she wanted to be—beautiful, fashionable, cheerful, and probably great at picking up men. Maybe she could learn a thing or two?
“Well, your roommate has good taste.” Christine winked.
“That’s why I steal her clothes.” Hannah grinned, and the two women tossed their heads back, laughing.
“Come on, I owe you a drink.” Christine waved Hannah over to the bar. “What do you want?”
Hannah stared at the rows of bottles. She didn’t have anything against liquor or alcohol, it was just a language she didn’t know.
“How about one of whatever you’re having?” She leaned on the bar and caught a glimpse of Mason hovering a dozen or so feet away at a tall table. Well, if he wanted to stand there, watching her have fun, that was his choice. She was going to enjoy this trip—with or without him.
“Hey, Luis?” Christine leaned over the bar and waved at the closest bartender. “Can we get a wet rag or a towel or something? I’m such a klutz I spilled this amazing drink all over her.”
“Are you guys from here?” Hannah asked.
Natalie leaned close and pitched her voice lower, “Christine thinks if she knows the bartender’s names they’ll hook her up with better drinks.”
“Does it work?”
“Who knows?” Natalie giggled behind her hand.
Hannah couldn’t help herself, the laughter was infectious. She accepted the drink Luis slid her way and sipped it. Sweet, fruity, a hint of coconut and the burn of liquor. Hannah blinked rapidly as she swallowed. Yup. It was strong alright. She’d have to be careful or she’d end up toasted, and she was not about to give Mason another reason to keep an eye on her.
“Good, isn’t it?” Christine nodded, her grin wide and friendly.
“Yeah.” Hannah dug her toes into the sand. She was such a lightweight, half of this thing was going to put her on her ass. Still, it was a vacation. So what if she got a little tipsy?
“Oh, I love this song, come on!” Christine latched one hand around Hannah’s wrist and swept her arm around Natalie’s waist, pulling them both to the dance floor.
Hannah didn’t bother looking at Mason’s glaring mug. He wanted to stand around and not have fun? That was his problem. She was going to dance, damn it.
Mason sipped his beer and stared out at the ocean, his thoughts beati
ng at his mind in time to the waves, wearing him down.
There were some things a man couldn’t come back from.
Being with Hannah might be one of them. He wanted her. There was no doubt there. But it worth it? Could he come back from this weekend, be with her, and still be whole? Or would she take a piece of him, never to return it? Could he live without that bit of his soul? Or his heart? If he couldn’t have the whole thing, did he want a taste?
He sensed her presence the moment before Hannah threw her arm around his waist and leaned against his shoulder.
“There you are.” Her words were muffled by the breeze and his shirt. He couldn’t deny the raw sense of pleasure it gave him that even after earlier she still came back to him.
“Yup. Having a good time?” He peered down at her blonde head.
“Yeah.”
The two lookers Hannah had hooked up with seemed to be pros at catch and release when it came to guys on the dance floor, while Hannah was happy dancing by herself. There were a few drunken idiots he’d come close to getting off his stool for, but she’d handled them herself. His gut told him to stick close to her, but his head said to give her space. At least until he figured out what they were going to do. It wasn’t fair to keep her tied up in this thing between them when someone else could step into his place. Even if he wanted to snap their neck for looking at her.
She squeezed his waist and sat on the stool next to him. Her skin was flushed, a light sheen of perspiration clung to her brow, and her eyes didn’t quite focus.
Yup, she’d had a little to drink.
“Here. I can’t drink another one.” She handed him one of the frilly coconut drinks the girls had been slamming back all night.
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been sipping and tossing them as fast as Christine can buy them, but I think I’m done for the night.” She leaned on the table and chuckled. Her words were a little slurred, but not too bad. He’d be willing to bet she had a good buzz going.
He sniffed the drink, sorting through the smells.
“You guys doing another round?” He paid attention to the girls’ trips to and from the bar. They hadn’t been back in at least half an hour. So where had this one come from?
“Luis brought them to us this time. I think he wants a big tip.”
“Luis?”
“The bartender.” Hannah chuckled. “Christine has this theory that if she knows her bartender’s name, she’ll get better drinks.”
“Hm.”
In a place like this the mixed stuff was watered down sugar syrup crap. Mason tipped the coconut back and drank a gulp of the quickly melting slush. The flavors hit the back of his throat and he grimaced.
“Good God, that’s sweet.” He wrinkled his nose and peered at the contents.
“Let me taste?” She sipped from the straw, all dainty like. “Bleh. That is super sweet. They haven’t been that sweet. He must have changed what was going in it.”
“No wonder he gave you this round for free. I wouldn’t pay for this crap.” Still, he wasn’t going to waste free liquor.
Mason drank another big gulp.
The pure sweetness of it coated the back of his mouth. It had more in common with the consistency of cough syrup than a fruity beverage.
“Fuck that.” He put the drink down and pushed it across the table. It wobbled on its uneven bottom, but didn’t tip over. There wasn’t that much left. No wonder the girls had gone through so many. There was more coconut than liquid involved.
Hannah’s hands circled his bicep. She leaned over and rested her cheek against his shoulder.
“Will you please dance with me?”
His stomach did a flip-flop.
He was powerless in the face of her plea. Yeah, he might try to hold out, to resist her, but the reality was that he couldn’t tell her no. Not really. Not when he wanted to hold her.
Mason knew what he should do. He’d always known the right thing to do. And look where it’d gotten him? A life of no options, forcing him into this corner where he either got the girl and lost his livelihood, or he gave up the girl and kept going. For once he’d like it all—the girl, the life, everything.
“Okay,” he said.
Her smile widened until it was hard to look at anything but her.
She took his hand and tugged him off the stool and to his feet, leading him out into the sea of writhing bodies. He was out of place here. Unlike the vacationing crowd, he could never stop being himself. The SEAL. A guard. It was simply who he was. But for a moment, couldn’t they pretend? Couldn’t he lose himself in this moment? With her?
He slipped his arms around her so there was no mistake—she was his. For right now, on this dance floor, it was just them.
Hannah’s movements were fluid, graceful, a little off beat, but he didn’t care. They twisted and turned, their bodies pressed together, undulating in ways that were purely sexual, adding fodder to his already thick stack of fantasy material where she was concerned. It was all too easy to imagine sliding the sheer cover-up off her body, pulling aside the bathing suit and being inside of her. Hopefully she didn’t mind his thickening erection pressing against her hip. If she did, she wasn’t letting him know.
The music changed to a slower, sensual number. Hannah’s head went to his shoulder and they swayed. Two bodies as one. He closed his eyes and held onto the fantasy, that this was how it could be between them.
Her lips whispered up his neck, her tongue grazing his skin. Blood pumped into his cock, hardening his already inconvenient erection.
“Hannah.” Her name sounded more like a growl.
“Shh,” she said against his mouth.
He was a government-created killing machine, and she commanded him with a single syllable. Not even a word.
Hannah’s kiss was flavored with coconut, sweetness, and heat. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her closer. Was there any hope of remaining in control? She continued to sway, rubbing against his dick trapped between them with each pass, while her mouth worked wonders.
Another couple bounced into them, sending Mason staggering sideways, Hannah in his arms.
Damn, his head was spinning from that kiss.
“Sorry,” the older gentleman said with a sheepish smile.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mason replied.
Hannah chuckled and nuzzled his neck, not fazed in the least.
Christ, he couldn’t hold out, not when she kissed him like that.
“Hannah—”
“Will you just stop—please? I don’t want to argue or fight. I just want to dance, okay?”
There was no future for them. Just now. His head buzzed with the thought.
Would a memory be better than a dream?
He swallowed.
“Hannah?”
She sighed and picked her head up off his shoulder.
“When we go home, we know how it has to be.” He cupped her cheek and the rest of the world went a little fuzzy around the edges. “What if—what if we just have now?”
“What do you mean?” She stared at him, that shield of hers coming up. Could he blame her? He’d pushed her away so many times.
It was a bad, bad idea...but it was the only loophole.
“I’m saying, all rules are off while we’re here.” Just saying it sent a giddy thrill of lust through him.
“Are you serious?” Her gaze narrowed.
“Yeah. Going home’s going to suck balls, but at least we’ll know what it would be like, right?”
“You’re serious.”
“I am.”
Was she?
Those two words were so liberating. She could say no, it was still her choice, but damn, he hoped she said yes.
Hannah’s mouth worked without sound and her lashes fluttered. God, it was cute. He was used to bossy Hannah, telling him what to do. Angry Hannah, ready to yell at him. But breathless, lost for words Hannah? That was a new one.
He leaned in and kisse
d her, suckling her lower lip into his mouth. There would be other things in his mouth tonight if he got his way, but he’d start here. Her arms wrapped around his neck, nearly strangling him with how tight she held on.
The broke apart as the music picked up, drowning out his thoughts.
Hannah grabbed his hand and tugged him off the dance floor, out past the bar toward the ocean. They gravitated toward the stone-lined path leading toward a line of changing tents.
“Mason, are you serious?” She stopped in the middle of the path. They were alone. Whatever they said now, it was just between them. No one could take the moment back to her father or the Admiral. It was theirs.
He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles, never once breaking eye contact.
“I am.” Seeing her with someone else later on would make him rage, but at least for this time, here and now, she’d be his. “Are you sure I’m what you want? Or would any guy at Aegis do?”
“What?” She snatched her hand away, giving him his answer.
“Just saying, I never quite figured out if it was me, or knowing your dad wouldn’t like you with one of his guys.” He reached for her hand but she hid them behind her.
“You seriously think that’s me?” She took a step back, her face shocked and angry.
“Now I know it’s not. I had to ask.” He circled her waist, grasping her clenched hands and bumped their noses together. This—it was them. Just them. Hannah could have any man she wanted, but it was him she desired. “Come here.”
He took her hands and backed up, off the path, into the sand.
The nearly full moon more than lit the beach. He could see her face clearly, the brows drawn down, her swollen, pouting lips. She followed, dragging her heels, still offended by his question. He’d just have to make it up to her. And he had a list of ways to do just that.
Mason led her into one of the permanent tent structures. The edges of the canvas walls flapped in the breeze, but otherwise, they were alone, completely shielded from prying eyes. Hannah quirked a brow at him, but the arch expression was ruined by her smile.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He didn’t really have a plan. It was more the feel of it. This felt right. He pulled his shirt off and instead of letting it fall, he laid it down on the ground in the middle of the tent while he sat in the sand.
Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2) Page 5